Admission
by corneroffandom
Summary: Late night travel goes wrong for Alberto and Ricardo, and certain truths send them down an unexpected path.


Alberto Del Rio sighs, blinking tiredly. He'd been driving for awhile, Ricardo doing what he can to stay awake himself to keep his employer company. Finally they pass a turn off and Del Rio peers at the signs, scrubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "What do you say, mi amigo? Want to stop off and get some air?"

Ricardo runs a hand through his hair, squinting out at the darkness surrounding them. "Si," he agrees, nodding. They're both so wiped out, with at least an hour more of driving ahead of them, that any sort of reprieve to stretch their legs, hopefully revive enough to make it the rest of the way, is definitely needed.

Alberto releases a soft breath when he finds a rest area, pulling off of the highway to park. The building is quiet, dark, only a few other people wandering around, but they head inside anyway to refresh themselves in the bathroom, grab a cool soda from one of the machines inside, and point out the lesser selected snacks that are stuck in the machines. Feeling more awake, Alberto takes another sip from his bottle of water before squeezing Ricardo's shoulder. "Ready to go, mi amigo? We may make it before the sun rises at this rate."

The ring announcer laughs wearily before nodding. "Si, let's." It's quiet outside, beautiful, and they pause for a moment to take in the surroundings. There's a wooded area not far away, the soft chittering of birds and bugs and nature... It's all so peaceful and quiet that neither man notices anything wrong until Alberto is halfway to the car, the gravel crunching behind him. He tenses as soon as something cold amd metalic presses against his side.

"Arms up," a shaky, desperate voice mutters in his ear. "Real easy now, and there won't be trouble." A hand is already searching his pockets, the shakiness from the voice echoing out through the person's appendages and Alberto looks up to find Ricardo staring at them, his eyes wide with horror. Alberto discreetly shakes his head at the younger man, feeling as the thief pries his recently upgraded Smartphone out of his pocket, followed by his wallet- full with both cash and credit. He bites his lips, waiting for an opportunity, and it comes when the man is floored by just how much _is_ in the wallet, the gun slipping away from Alberto's flesh.

He moves in an instant, using all of his training in wrestling and MMA to smack the wallet out of the man's hands, then sweeping his feet from under him. The gun goes off but Alberto barely notices as he continues the onslaught, kicking and punching him until he's limp on the ground, everything from his blotchy complexion to his fingers still twitching in unconsciousness reading a needy junkie. "I was the wrong person to try to steal from, perro," he tells him darkly, kicking his gun into the bushes. "The police will have fun with you..."

It takes a minute to register with him, how quiet Ricardo's been since he'd sent the man to the ground, but when it does, he turns to look. "Ricardo, mi amigo, do-" His words die in his throat as soon as he actually catches sight of the other man, slumped in the darkness against the car. He then remembers. The gun going off blindly, and then... then... He curses his need to beat the man well after he was unarmed and takes off running around the car. "Ricardo!" Gripping the ring announcer under the arms, he searches his pale, sweaty face. "Ay, hey, hey, look at me-"

Their eyes lock and it's somehow worse than when Ricardo was too out of it to focus, struggling just to stay on his feet. "El Patron," he whispers through dry lips, head dipping against Alberto's chest. "Hurts."

"Whoa, ok, I have you," he mutters, easing Ricardo to the ground. "Let me... let me look." He lets out a faint hissing noise as soon as he brushes Ricardo's jacket aside, blood staining his black shirt a shade darker even in the faint moonlight. He curses in Spanish before looking back up at Ricardo.

"It's bad," Ricardo mumbles, leaning against Alberto's shoulder and groaning deep down in his throat when the Mexican aristocrat slips his hand between them and finds the wound, cringing as his fingers sink into it. He stays there, though, applying pressure, trying to stop the bleeding. "Lo siento, I was... in the wrong place... should've moved, helped..."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Alberto whispers into his hair, holding him up. "Just stay awake, si? I'll call for an ambulance... you're going to be fine, you will. I promise." He realizes then that he'd left his phone with the thief and closes his eyes, using his free hand to slip into Ricardo's pocket. When Ricardo hisses at being jostled, he murmurs soothingly. "My phone is over there, I'm going to use yours, just... just hold on, hold on." It seems to ring forever before a 911 dispatcher answers and he strokes Ricardo's hair, trying to explain where they're at, what happened, listening to his ring announcer's ragged breathing as more blood drios between Alberto's fingers.

As soon as he finishes with the call, he leans forward and sets Ricardo back against the car to get a better look at his wound, working through Ricardo's pained sounds to unbutton his shirt to actually see where all of the blood's coming from. The wound's deceptively small, but the blood loss is massive, Alberto swallowing hard as he looks at the mess that is Ricardo's midsection right now. His head is resting weakly against the car door, eyes only opened a slit as Alberto tries to wipe away blood to see better, just for more to stain his hands and Ricardo's flesh. "El Patron," he murmurs.

Alberto immediately moves, forgetting the wound to look his best friend in the eye. "Si? What is it?" He takes the time to press back down on the wound, cringing when Ricardo arches away, trying to escape the pain. Alberto's stronger, however, and holds him down, hating himself as tears of pain run down Ricardo's cheeks. "Lo siento, lo siento, just breathe, just breathe," he pleads with him.

"Trying," he breathes out. "I'm trying." It's a struggle, clearly, each breath a pained, weak wheeze that rattles in his chest, and Alberto's heart breaks a little more every time he hears it. But not to hear it would be worse, so he thanks everything listening for that sound as he strokes Ricardo's face with his free hand, trying not to freak out worse when he smears blood on the younger man's skin. "El Patron," he tries again after a few moments.

"Mm hmm, I'm here, Ricardo. I'm here." He looks away for a moment, checks the man- he's still unconscious on the other side of the car and he fights everything in him wanting to go over and kick him again and again. He wouldn't leave Ricardo's side, not for that waste of time, so he takes a breath and looks away, locks eyes with Ricardo once more. "What is it?"

Under all of the pain and fright, there's a weird look in Ricardo's eyes- almost one of acceptance, and Alberto fears it, what it could possibly mean. But before he can say anything, try to reassure Ricardo, encourage him to fight, the younger man cups his face with trembling, weak hands. "You're my best friend," he tells him quietly. "From the moment you hired me, I never wanted to do anything but make you happy."

"And you do, you're the best employee I've ever had-" Alberto exclaims, reaching up to grip Ricardo's hands, never wanting to lose their warmth against his flesh.

Sadness mixes in with all of the other emotions welling in Ricardo's dark gaze and he smiles mirthlessly. "I'm glad to hear it... but... not really what I meant..." He's weakening, and Alberto thinks perhaps he should tell him to stop talking, but he gets the feeling that it'd be somehow worse for Ricardo if he did, so he keeps quiet, watching him in terror. Ricardo sucks in another, rattling breath, before leaning forward with whatever remains of his strength. "I'm in love with you." He kisses Alberto awkwardly, missing his lips in his exhaustion, but comes to a stop against his cheek. "I love you. Don't blame yourself for... this."

Alberto is speechless, unable to do anything but watch as Ricardo sinks back against the car, weak and barely able to keep his eyes open now as he falls in and out of consciousness. Alberto's fingers are stained with the red liquid, which is drying into a sluggish brown, but it's not until the ambulance siren begins to echo in the distance that he comes back to himself, the fugue that Ricardo's words had forced him into finally fading away. "Ricardo! The ambulance is here, do you hear-" He quiets when he finds that Ricardo is limp, unconscious under his hands. "No, no," he chokes out, leaning closer and trying to see if he's breathing. It's impossible to tell, he presses a hand to Ricardo's throat, trying to feel a pulse, something... but his hands are shaking, tears pouring down his face, and he can't tell. "No, no, no, please... Ricardo, por favor! They're almost here, just hang on, hang on..."

It's a mess when the EMTs and police arrive, a sea of people surrounding them, and Alberto is loathe to release his best friend to them, his words echoing in his head, but he has no choice, standing up wearily and gripping his hair, almost tugging it out of his skull. It's then that he hears the police, that junkie thief murderer's voice, and he races through the sea of police and tackles him, not caring in the slightest that this isn't WWE, that he could seriously get in trouble for this. He barely lands a punch on the downed junkie before he's pulled off, the police proving much more sufficient than WWE's people ever had been. "He killed my best friend!" he cries out, trying again to kick at the man. 

"Calm down!" the police yells at him, finally dragging him away and dropping him onto a nearby bench. He can see Ricardo still being worked on from here, oxygen masks and IVs, scissors cutting away what remains of his shirt and jacket so they can see his wound better. It makes him ill to watch, the only comfort he gets is their confirmation that he's breathing, his heart is still beating. Upon hearing this, he leans over with his head between his legs and tries not to throw up right then and there.

He stumbles up, relieved when the officers allow this, watching as he approaches the EMTs. "I have to come with him," he pleads with them. "I'm his best friend, his employer, por favor- por favor-"

"Fine," the nearest woman says. "We have to move _now_ though or we're going to lose him before we've halfway there." It's a scramble, a rush, and Alberto remembers very little of it until he looks down to find Ricardo before him on a cot, hooked up to all kinds of machines while the EMTs continue to work on him the entire trip to the hospital.

He follows blankly, barely able to breathe, and looks on in confusion when a nurse stops him outside of the room that Ricardo's been pushed into, leading him to a waiting room off to the side. Her words are meaningless to him, he can guess what she's saying, that he needs to wait here, that they'll keep him updated, that... that... He groans softly and sits down, burying his face in his hands. Ricardo's words to him before passing out are still fresh in his mind and he bites his lip, trying not to cry. _How could someone like him ever love someone like me?_ he wonders, wanting to get up and pace, but not having the strength to move from this chair, fearing that he'd fall apart if he even sat up straight.

On a good day, he treats Ricardo this side of horrible, especially when they're in WWE arenas, and he can't fathom how any of it could lead to any sort of fond feelings towards him... but that seems to be exactly what happened. He scrubs his face, remembering how just the day before Ricardo had been holding their suitcases, waiting for Alberto to finish a phonecall, when someone had pushed past them and knocked Alberto's luggage from his hand. Hadn't damaged anything, not even scuffed the cases, but Alberto had glared at him until he'd finished his phone call, pushing him towards the car.

They'd then sat for the next couple of hours, driving to the next town while Alberto lectured Ricardo about properly handling his property, not even thinking about how Ricardo had handled everything perfectly for the last few years, except for a few issues here and there that were out of his control. Ricardo hadn't argued once, just sat there and took it, his breathing rough as he'd clearly struggled not to cry at Alberto's nonstop rant.

 _Were the good times, when I treated him like a proper best friend should be treated, really enough to wipe away all of the bad times enough that he could possibly really feel like that about me?_ Alberto wonders, rocking back and forth in his seat while he ponders it, unable to sort it out. Not that he knows much about love, or romance... his money had always made him reluctant to search out relationships, Ricardo and Sofia the only people he truly trusts enough to turn to with his most personal business. But despite everything, Ricardo had never talked about money with him, not even asking for a raise. He squints, trying to remember the last time they'd discussed his pay... _The day I hired him,_ he realizes with a shudder. _I gave him a number, he thanked me, and that was it._

He's still sitting there, lost in thought, when a doctor approaches him. He looks up wearily, and the man nods at him. "You came in with Ricardo Rodriguez?" 

"Si, yes," Alberto says, finally getting to his feet. "How is he?"

The doctor doesn't say anything for a moment, walking down the hall. Alberto gapes at him, then follows. "He survived surgery," he hedges. "Damage was significant. He has some broken ribs and we're keeping a close eye on his other organs... We've done all we can for him, it's up to him now." He shows Alberto into ICU and leads him to a room, pushing a door open. "We've already settled him in here, you can stay as long as you wish."

Alberto's aware that it's only in dire circumstances that hospital staff will ignore visiting hours without a fight, and he swallows hard, approaching Ricardo's bed with a pained look on his face. The ring announcer is pale, his eyes closed and bruised under the faint light. Bandages and gauze span his chest and Alberto swallows hard, sitting down next to the bed, finding his hand and holding it close, remembering how it'd felt against his face when Ricardo had been somewhat lucid, had confessed his feelings for Alberto.

"How is it possible?" he whispers, lifting Ricardo's hand and holding it under his jaw. He feels cold and Alberto hates it, aware of how uncomfortable he gets in the cold, being a lifelong native of warm places like California or Florida. "I did nothing to earn your feelings, mi amigo. I don't understand it. If anything, you should detest me. I am... ugly... to you. So often." He thinks he should call Sofia, notify her of what's happened, but his phone is still missing and now he's unsure where Ricardo's is at, so he continues to sit, staring at the monitors and machines surrounding his ring announcer's prone body.

Daybreak comes slowly and, by the time sun is shining upon Ricardo's body, Alberto decides he has to do _something_ to try to help. Finding a payphone, he works through all of the instructions until he's able to call out to Florida. Sofia is sleepy, but wakes up as soon as she hears the dread in Alberto's voice, starts to cry when he explains what's happened. "I'll be on the first flight out," she promises, hanging up without another word spoken.

He hangs up with a sigh and returns to Ricardo's side, pressing his hand to his chest. "I thought I was doing the right thing, fighting that man... perhaps if I had just let him take what he wanted, we would've both walked out in one piece... Money and a phone, what do I care about them for? I have plenty to spare," he sighs, resting his forehead against Ricardo's hand. "There's no replacing you, mi amigo. Por favor, don't leave me here. Wake up."

There's no response to his plead so he sighs painfully and sits back to wait, watch, until Sofia arrives.

He's dozing, still clinging to Ricardo's hand, when she does, her step so quiet that he barely notices her until she sobs and drops her jacket, walking over to Alberto and hugging him tightly. Releasing him, she approaches the bed and cups Ricardo's face with a gentle hand, careful not to dislodge the various machines tracking his vitals. "Oh, Ricardo," she cries. "Mi hijo... I'm so sorry it took me this long to get here." She kisses Ricardo's forehead, then turns to do the same to Alberto. "What are they saying?"

"No change," he says tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. "The longer it takes for him to wake up, ..." He drifts, unwilling to say it aloud, but he can tell by how her eyes darken that she understands. 

"No, no, he's a fighter, he'll be just fine," she says, turning to once more kiss Ricardo's forehead.

Alberto watches her, remembering the warmth of Ricardo's lips on his cheek. "The blood loss was significant," he continues, still seeing flakes of brown on his hands from where he'd tried and failed to stop the bleeding. "They've been giving him transfusions. He's holding on... He just needs to wake up..."

"Si," she muses, sitting down next to Ricardo on the bed. "We will be right here when he does, and he'll get stronger and we'll take him home as soon as possible, and everything will return to normal."

"I don't think that's possible," Alberto mumbles, the confusion over the depth of Ricardo's feelings for him still heavy on his shoulders. Sofia stares at him in fright before he releases a breath. "He told me he loves me."

Her lips part, tears filling her eyes, before she leans over and kisses Ricardo on the cheek, stroking his jaw. "Brave boy... brave, sweet boy," she murmurs over and over again, Alberto watching as she cries over him.

"How could anyone possibly love someone like me?" he wonders once she quiets down, staring at his hands as he twists and untwists them in his lap. "Especially someone like him?"

She stares at him with a sad smile. "It's easier than you realize, senor. _Especially_ for someone like him." He looks up at her, glances over at Ricardo as he breathes in and out quietly once more, before nodding slowly. She joins him, taking his hands and squeezing them. "He loves you because it's clear you need him, even if you won't admit it half of the time. He sees through the pride and the anger, to the man inside of you. He loves the man who took a chance on someone like him, who selected him out of everyone else to be by his side every hour of every day. He loves you because you have all of these possessions and all of this money but instead of sitting around and being lazy, you continue to work to better yourself, to be champion, to have more opportunities." He's starting to believe her when she cups his face and stares into his dark eyes. "Now you need to decide how you feel about him... and don't string him along if you don't feel the same way. Especially now. It may hurt him but it'd hurt more if you lied, or worse, ignored his admission."

She smiles sadly at Alberto, pats his face, and walks back over to the bed, lightly kissing Ricardo's forehead. "I'll be back soon, mi hijo. Stay strong, si?"

As soon as she's gone, Alberto scoots his chair over to the bed and takes Ricardo's hand once more, examining the strong fingers which had supported him, held him through injuries and celebrated with him over the last few years. "I was thinking about when we first met," Alberto tells him quietly. "How quickly we clicked... I'm sure you remember that day too." He laughs shakily. "No one knew I was there, thought I would leave it to the company to hire a ring announcer for me." He tsks. "As if I would leave such a monumentous decision to just anyone... Of course none of us realized that it would become a permanent position, it was just to be a day or two, to make my debut all the more special."

He sighs. "The company had their ideas, some young man that I saw wandering around that day. But he was bland, I saw nothing special about him. You caught my eye from the beginning, talking with some other California wrestlers who were scattered around, trying to get into the WWE... I was even more interested when I realized you were speaking Spanish." He strokes Ricardo's knuckles, lost in recollection. "I joined you, standing by the table and listening to you. You impressed me with your knowledge of the business, and respect of those who have come before us in many different styles of wrestling. It didn't matter to me when the company's first choice fell through, you were the only one I planned on working with anyway. I haven't regretted that decision once."

He looks up, realizing that Ricardo's breathing sounds different. His lips part when he realize that the younger man is awake, his eyes flickering slightly. "Hey, hey, you're awake," he gasps, overwhelmed by happiness and relief. Their eyes lock for a moment, Ricardo's fingers tensing around Alberto's, before he gives back in and falls asleep once more. Alberto swallows down the panic and reminds himself that people coming off of anesthesia tends to fade in and out for a few hours, if not a full day, before waking up fully. He sits and watches, stroking Ricardo's hair whenever he does open his eyes, but doesn't try to push or force him into staying awake.

Sofia returns, and nurses are in and out, with a visit from the doctor, but Alberto keeps his focus on the ring announcer, waiting for him to open his eyes, speak, anything. It's late, Sofia dozing on a cot, when finally Ricardo murmurs and stirs, opening his eyes for the fourth time in as many hours. "El Patron," he breathes out.

"Hey, hey, I'm right here," Alberto greets him, smiling down at him. "It's good to hear your voice." Ricardo starts to look worried, his heart rate speeding up, when Alberto reaches out and squeezes his hand. "No, no, mi amigo, you're going to be ok. You were shot, but they fixed you up and now that you're awake, we can focus on your recovery."

"Did I..." Ricardo winces and licks his lips, Alberto moving to get some fresh ice chips that a nurse had left before leaving a few minutes earlier just in case. He spoons a few into the younge rman's mouth before Ricardo tries speaking again. "Did I... really say..." He grimaces. "Did I tell you..."

"Si, yes, you did," Alberto whispers. He rests a hand on Ricardo's. "I couldn't understand how you could possibly feel so strongly about someone like me, but I think I see now. From the moment we met, there always was something drawing us together, hm?" Ricardo stares at him, still pale and weak, and Alberto sighs, leaning over to spoon some more ice chips into his mouth. "I suppose some would call it destiny..." His grin fades when Ricardo coughs and struggles to breathe, stroking his forehead. "Breathe, breathe. Lo siento, I shouldn't make jokes about such things right now."

Ricardo shakes his head, eyes streaming from the struggle to catch his breath. "Wha- what are you saying? Something drawing us together... wha..."

Alberto adjusts the oxygen cannula to be more comfortable on his nose before cupping Ricardo's face. "Before you passed out, there was something you tried to do and I believe you missed a little." He's hovering in front of him, faces just a few inches apart, waiting patiently. "Would you like to try again?"

Ricardo whimpers, gazing up at him in awe. "El Patron..." Alberto doesn't move, staring down at him hopefully, and he swallows. "Si... I think..." It hurts, some, through the haze of pain medicine and whatever else cycling through his veins and making him so boneweary, but he inches forward and succeeds at kissing Alberto on the lips this time, lifting a hand not weighed down with IV ports and whatever else to stroke his face. His energy fails him and he drops back against his pillows, a small smile on his face even as his eyes glint in uncertainty."Por que?"

"Porque yo también te amo," he says, hands warm on Ricardo's shoulders. "I'm so sorry it took this for me to focus on something other than my career and petty annoyances long enough to realize. If I had lost you before I could..." He shakes his head and strokes Ricardo's arms down to his fingers. "Thank you for coming back to me so I could tell you."

Ricardo smiles and stares at their interlaced hands sleepily. "I'll never leave you, El Patron."

"Good," Alberto whispers as he settles into his pillows, falling into a heavy sleep. "I wouldn't let you." He smiles wearily and kisses Ricardo's forehead before pressing his face against Ricardo's shoulder a moment, listening to his breathing. "Rest well."


End file.
